I�ve been feeling the ill-effects of my lack of time for writing lately. I miss the discharge of energy, the chance to reflect and analyze. Plus, I�m not sure where to begin.

Sunday we took AJ to a planetarium at Triton College in Chicago�s Western Suburbs to see a screening of a film/starshow entitled, �The Little Star that Could,� which told the story of a poor star Sol, who as every other star he met was, �just average, nothing special� until finally he finds that one of his planets, Earth, has life, which is very rare. The Milky Way Galaxy, booms in like the voice of God to place Sol and his planets in a place of honor in his arms. The whole thing was pretty low-tech and goofy in a 1970s filmstrip kind of way (for those old enough to remember such things. Turn the frame when you hear the beep!). I would have been willing to bet the film was made in 1978 except that the music had a distinct 1980s aren�t-our-new-digital-synthesizers-cool kind of sound. I was horrified to learn at the end that it was, in fact, made in 1996. My husband and I laughed riotously at the whole thing. AJ, however, watched very seriously. He was entranced by the dancing stars on the ceiling. He talked about the little star and his planets for days afterwards.

I already wrote about Monday�s class. I was so out of sorts afterwards, that I forgot to mention an incredibly pleasant lunch I had beforehand with one of my first friends from Chicago. I�m not even sure where I met J. � a grad student function before our collective school year started, I think. He was in a different department where, coincidentally, a friend of mine from college had enrolled. We kept bumping into each other around campus and ended up singing together for years, first at school and later in several professional choirs after we had both left the university (and before I came back). He conducted the choir of my friends who sang for my wedding and sang one of the solos, which ultimately got him a job in the choir of the ensemble I was working for at the time. We�d lost touch after I moved to the suburbs and he got involved in a relationship with someone who had such a big circle of friends that J was swept up with his crowd and didn�t keep in touch as much with old friends. Our lives had changed, and we�d moved on. I last saw him about five years ago at a party when I was pregnant with AJ. J. emailed me out of the blue a few weeks ago and we finally made a lunch date.

It�s always an amazing thing when you haven�t seen someone in years when you feel like you can pick up where you left off. We reminisced a lot, talked about our mutual horror of our rapidly advancing ages, our amazement of being back in the old neighborhood, and shared gossip. It made me realize that I�ve come around full circle in some ways. Marriage and especially motherhood changed me more than I could possibly imagine, shook my self-image to its roots. But I feel like I�m coming back to the point where I can look back with greater understanding, like the massive changes are finally integrated into the continuum of my life. Old friends are like guideposts to your many selves in that way.

Today we are giving the lecture demo another go in class, after which I get to talk about opera and oratorio � from castrati to the Hallelujah chorus. The faculty observer never emailed his comments, but I�m supposed to meet with him today. Although I�m a bit anxious about what he�ll say, I�m looking forward to it too. I think the class he saw was fairly typical in many respects of both my strong points and problems. I have such a vastly different teaching style from this faculty member � he�s a much more relaxed and laid-back person in general (which, admittedly, is not that difficult to accomplish) so I fear I may get ripped to shreds. But I could also learn a lot from someone who makes it all look so easy. I hope he has some constructive things to say.

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